


drunken lullabies

by leaflibrarian



Series: lullabies 'verse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Face-Fucking, Friends to Lovers, Headspace, Internalized Homophobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, buckys mouth is downright FILTHY, light boot worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 21:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17836319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaflibrarian/pseuds/leaflibrarian
Summary: “Buck, you’re drunk. I don’t feel okay with doing stuff you might regret,” Steve says cautiously, his feet unconsciously pulling himself closer to where Bucky sits.“I’m not too drunk to fuck, baby,” Bucky hums, “and who said I’d regret this?”Bucky spreads his legs further, palming his obvious erection through his slacks. His eyes are completely black, eyelids hooded, and the apples of his cheeks are stained a shocking pink.





	drunken lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Drunken Lullabies by Flogging Molly.  
> Also, the boot worship or whatever is really really brief, so if that’s not your cup of tea then you can skip it!  
> (i’m not even sure I’d really classify it as boot worship,,,, idk what that is *shrugs*)

Steve cracks open a window in the apartment, allowing for some fresh air to creep inside. The room is stuffy and too hot, thick with the humidity that often comes with August nights like these.

He returns to his bed, but knows in the back of his mind that he won’t get a lick of sleep tonight.

A tomcat outside of their tenement keeps on yowling. The cat is probably just as frustrated with the sweltering heat just as much as he is. 

Bucky’s working another late night down at the docks, busting his tail for another week’s pay.

It’s much needed, the money. The icebox is verging on empty and they’ve been relying on the sack of beans in the cupboard and the week-old-bread that’s been sitting in the breadbox.

Bucky’s nearly been working himself ragged, coming home from the docks every night bone-tired and smelling of sweat and seawater.

He gets home each night to immediately strip down to his skivvies and call it a night, almost like a ritual.

He hardly gets to see Bucky anymore; the older boy is too engulfed in his work and too tired for niceties by the time he gets home. 

That, and when Bucky is home, on the off-chance, Steve is either working at the drafting table or is fast asleep.

Or, Bucky is out on the town with another doe-eyed dame looking for a quick fuck and the exchange of body heat.

He comes home smelling of cigarettes and stale perfume and is too drunk to stand up straight.

It’s crazy how his focus is always on where Bucky is; on what Bucky’s doing; and who it’s with. _Bucky this, Bucky that._

He’d brought home a dame, once. 

She had victory rolls the size of Lady Liberty, smudged red lips, lewd bedroom-eyes, and smelled of some god-awful perfume and the not-so-subtle smell of alcohol.

Bucky had the smudged red lips to match, and reeked of her perfume and strongly of alcohol as well.

Steve had pretended to be asleep on the lumpy couch, but snuck a look at the two of them as they breezed past where he lied.

They stumbled their way to the bedroom as one connected being, not letting each other go, ignoring Steve all together.

But Steve didn’t pay any attention to the obscene moans she made, no. He didn’t listen to her bawdy shrieks of pleasure and pleas that would be alluring to any normal, red-blooded American male.

Instead, his brain unhelpfully remained laser-focused on the low, guttural moans that escaped Bucky’s lips. 

The dirty talk— grumbled sweet-nothings. 

The sounds of his best pal grunting as he slammed home inside of her. The groans and animal-like noises ripping from his throat as he climaxed.

Steve couldn’t help but reach a shaky hand down to touch himself at the sound of Bucky’s first moan. 

The perfect note erupting from his throat as he screwed that dame. 

He came at the same time Bucky did that night. 

Heat flushed his face, he remembered, as he realized how wrong that was of him to do. How guilty he felt, beating off while his best pal was getting laid in the other room.

The shame he felt over thinking of another man in that way. 

The morning after that, he made it clear to Bucky that he didn’t want any more dames over while he’s asleep, refusing to make eye contact. 

But he didn’t mention anything more than that. He didn’t tell him that he’d come so hard that night he saw stars; harder than he’d ever done before.

Steve rolls around in his mussed-up bed once more, conceding to the heat and throwing off the single, thin sheet from his body. 

He checks the big clock near his bed. It was later than when Bucky got home, yet still he was nowhere to be seen. 

The tomcat outside gave an exceptional yowl; and then the room fills with the relief of cool Brooklyn air. The temperature is finally starting to drop and for that, Steve is grateful.

The front door opens and shuts and he hears the tell-tale clack of Bucky’s house keys hitting the kitchen table.

His brain stutters to a halt and his heart suddenly begins threatening to escape his chest. 

He’s normally awake at this hour, not going to bed until long after Bucky’s been conked out in his bed.

About this time he’d be checking up on Bucky as he gets home, and then at the drafting table working at a commission. However, the heat was too much, so he decided to reel it in early for the night. 

But Bucky isn’t going into his bedroom. He’d usually be half-asleep before Steve came in to check up on him.

But, tonight, it’s _different,_ and he needs to make sure everything is all right.

He tiptoes out of his room to see Bucky standing near the Victrola, flipping through the vinyl collection on their shelf, his eyes finally stopping on a Glenn Miller LP.

“What’re you still doin’ up, Buck?” Steve queries, watching the silhouette of Bucky’s body as he sways slightly to the quiet music. 

“I was waitin’ on you, punk,” he drawls, turning around to face the smaller boy.

He shot him his signature boyish grin and looked down at Steve from the bridge of his nose, long lashes fanning his cheeks. His eyes were nearly black, leaving only a sliver of the grey color Steve’s accustomed to.

Bucky begins to approach Steve. The smells of cheap gin and the unmistakable scent of brine from the docks tickle his nose.

_“Buck!”_ Steve gasps in incredulity. _“You’re sauced!”_

“And you’re the most gorgeous specimen I’ve ever laid eyes on, doll, we stating the obvious here, or what?” he purrs, leaning in to place a heavy hand on Steve’s lower back and bury his face in Steve’s neck.

“You rationed, sugar?” he drawls, looking up to give the blond a cocky smile. Steve instinctively leans into Bucky’s hold on his waist, but catches himself and draws away. 

“Talk to me when you’ve got your head screwed on straight, Buck,” says Steve. “And, that was a cheap line, even for you.”

“Aww, where you goin’, pretty baby?” Bucky whines, making grabby hands for Steve. 

“I think I’m too tired to take off my boots, baby, and I need your help,” he says, sitting down heavily on the couch and making a show of spreading his legs.

“What?” Steve squeaks. His brain is scrambling for reason.

“I didn’t think I had to repeat myself,” Bucky says, voice dipping into a dangerous key.

“Buck, you’re drunk. I don’t feel okay with doing stuff you might regret,” Steve says cautiously, his feet unconsciously pulling himself closer to where Bucky sits.

“I’m not too drunk to fuck, baby,” Bucky hums, “and who said I’d regret this?” 

Bucky spreads his legs further, palming his obvious erection through his slacks. His eyes are completely black, eyelids hooded, and the apples of his cheeks are stained a shocking pink.

“Bucky,” Steve breathes, trying to understand where all of this is coming from. He wonders if this is all some kind of sick joke.

“You gonna take off my boots or what, honey? I ain’t got all night,” Bucky asks, planting his ass further into the seat of the couch. He isn’t moving until he gets what he wants.

The rope of self-control inside of Steve’s brain snaps and before he knows it, he’s on his knees before Bucky and untying his laces.

_“Good boy.”_

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, the pet name making him feel tingly and drunk even though a drop of liquor never passed his lips.

“C’mon, baby, c’mere.” Bucky beckons, patting his thigh.

He climbs upon Bucky’s lap, his small body feeling impossibly smaller. The brunet seems about a million miles tall, his presence dominant and imposing.

Bucky’s presence wraps around him like a thick woolen blanket, warm and inviting. Two strong arms wrap around underneath his thighs and pull his ass to fit directly over Bucky’s long, thick erection.

Steve sighs in pleasure at being manhandled, from Bucky’s big hands pawing indecently at his backside, how easily Bucky could pick him up. 

He’s probably had to lift crates heavier than Steve, being only about a buck-oh-five. 

Bucky’s hands roam over his body like he was starved for it, grabbing at his ass and tracing each of his ribs and placing the pad of his thumb on his lower lip. 

Steve takes that as invitation to sweep his tongue delicately across his thumb, tasting the salt of his skin. 

Bucky’s eyes somehow go impossibly darker at his ministrations as he forcefully grabs Steve’s thighs. He’s definitely going to have deep purple bruises in the shape of his fingertips, but part of him enjoys the reminder.

He doesn’t even realize he’s beginning to get hard until the pressure of the confines of his briefs and pajama pants become too much. He needs friction, some sort of pressure to get relief.

“Please, Buck,” he breathes, grinding back down on the older boy’s rock-hard erection.

“Hmm... please what, baby?” Bucky drones, kissing up Steve’s neck, leaving him breathless.

“C-can I—fuck, can you fuck me, please,” he pleads, sighing in pleasure as he feels Bucky start a languid grind up against his ass.

Bucky lets out a soft moan that sends sparks of arousal down his spine. 

“Since you asked so sweetly— of course, doll,” he hums, voice dropped to a low timbre. 

He could feel Bucky scramble to unbuckle his belt and pull his cock out, tucking his briefs underneath his balls. 

God, the sight of it nearly makes Steve drool. It’s bigger than his own, and is pretty big in general. He doesn’t have any other to compare to, except for a brief look at other boys in the locker room in high school, but he bets that it’ll feel even better than it looks when he sits on it.

“You like what you see?” Bucky asks, putting his arms behind him on top of the couch, spreading his legs and puffing out his chest.

“God, Bucky—” he croaks, drinking in the way Bucky’s cock gives a slight twitch and looks so hard it must be _painful._

“You flatter me, baby, but the name’s just Bucky,” he smirks. 

Getting off of Bucky’s lap, he crawls on the floor beneath his spread thighs and presses his face into Bucky’s inner thigh, face dangerously close to his flushing cock. 

“Can I, Buck? Can I suck you off?” he begs, the words foreign on his tongue. The words spill out of him, and his voice is so blown out from lust it’s almost unrecognizable.

“So sweet for me, baby, you’re something else,” Bucky whispers like a prayer, making Steve’s knees feel weak. “You’re so good to me.”

Steve tentatively licks a stripe down the base of Bucky’s cock. He’s still unsure about whatever they’re doing, whatever the hell is going on. He earns a moan from Bucky’s lips, ragged and pulled apart. 

Taking pride in the small moan escaping Bucky’s lips, he smiles to himself, places a kiss to the tip of his cock and takes him in to the hilt. He rocks his own hard dick against Bucky’s leg, and he lets out a moan of pleasure, making Bucky let out a long moan.

Thick fingers thread in the short hairs at the back of his neck and move up to the top of his head. He begins a steady rhythm, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking for all he’s got. He’s inexperienced at this, but Bucky seems to be lost in pleasure. 

He looks up to see Bucky staring down at him with hooded eyes, sighing and panting in pleasure every time Steve does something he likes.

“Look at you,” Bucky pants, hips twitching upwards infinitesimally as Steve swirls his tongue around the tip. “Getting all sloppy on me, doll.” 

He looks down to see drool coming from the sides of his lips, dripping down the base of Bucky’s cock. Bucky takes a finger and circles it around his stretched lips, testing his finger on the seal of his lips.

Spit drips out of his mouth and something in Bucky snaps. He lets out an animalistic groan, and pulls on the fine hairs on Steve’s head with a brute force. 

“I’m gonna use your pretty mouth how I like, and you’re gonna _let me_ ,” he groans, cocksure, and sounding almost a little frustrated.

His cock throbs and gets impossibly harder, making Steve sputter and choke. Bucky grabs both sides of his head and holds him still. An aborted moan stops at his throat as Bucky begins jackhammering into his mouth.

The head of his cock squeezes at the back of his throat, and he’s grateful he doesn’t have a gag reflex. He’s so fucking hard inside of his briefs, and begins fucking up against Bucky’s clothed leg in earnest.

“Uh-uh... uh, so fucking pretty like this,” Bucky chokes out, legs shaking but still pistoning inside of the wet heat of his mouth.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed, letting out a long groan. “I’ve been thinking about this for years, Stevie,” he gritted out, fucking up into his mouth with a brutal pace. 

_“_ _Hmmh_ _?”_ Steve croaked, shocked and confused.

What? He... he wanted this for years? _James Buchanan Barnes_ , all around ladies’ man and womanizer, coming home with a dame on his arm every night. James Buchanan Barnes wants _him._

“Yeah, that’s right, pretty baby— _ngh_ _, fuck—_ I’ve been t-thinking all the time, how I’m gonna bend you over-r that kitchen table and fuck you senseless, split your ass in two,” he groans, low and dangerous and heady.

Steve moans around his cock again, feeling so fucking close. His own cock twitches pitifully, so painfully hard against his briefs. He’s going to come just like this, from Bucky’s heavy cock on his tongue and his words in his ear.

“I know you were listening to me fucking Elora Connelly senseless that night, Stevie,” he panted, words hitching in his throat, still fucking his mouth relentlessly.

“How could I not hear your little moans when you came, baby?”

The words make him blanch, face turning white. His cock gets impossibly harder, threatening to release.

_“I just wish it was you, making those pretty little noises wrapped around my cock.”_

_That’s it._ That’s enough to send him over the edge. 

He moans pathetically around Bucky’s cock, spilling his load into his pants like a fucking teenager. He rocks himself through his orgasm, letting the waves and waves crash over him. His brain becomes fuzzy and his vision whites out.

Bucky stills his motions abruptly.

_“Did you just come?”_

Steve whines around his cock, hesitantly giving his assent. He’s suddenly tired and unable to think coherently.

“Fuck, fuck _fuck_ _FUCK_ _,_ " Bucky curses, fucking up into his mouth and he feels it give a single, strong twitch before he’s coming and coming hot spurts down his throat. 

He swallows it down for all he’s got, tasting the bitter and saltiness of his release. Bucky releases his iron-grip on his hair, and pulls him up for a deep kiss.

He’s too tired, _so goddamn tired_ , after coming his brains out to fully kiss back, so it’s mostly him breathing wetly against Bucky’s lips. It feels so good, _so fucking good._

Their lips glide like butter, melting to the shape of each other’s mouths. He’s sure that Bucky’ll be able to taste his own release on his tongue, but he’s too tired to care.

His brain is floaty and buzzy, so he just curls up on Bucky’s lap, tucking his head under his chin.

“God, I can’t believe that I get to have you,” Bucky whispers, almost like he wasn’t meant to hear it. Like a confession.

“You always will, Buck,” he whispers back in return, placing kisses along Bucky’s neck.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been so stupid,” Bucky admits.

Steve lets out a breathy laugh. It feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest. A weight he didn’t even know he was carrying. His airy laugh turns into full blown laughter.

“However you want me, you’ll have me. ‘Till the end of the line.”

“Good. I’ll have you any way you’ll let me.” Bucky smiles, kissing Steve and bringing a hand to run through his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first ever truly smutty fic i’ve ever written and idk whether to be disgusted or proud
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> come chat with me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/leaflibrarian)!!!


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